


Bound

by orphan_account



Series: Storytelling [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Ghost Marco Bott, Ghosts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 05:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6316981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean doesn't see any good in his and his mother's move, but there's someone who thinks he can change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Move

The boy had not been in the house for long when he saw someone else was there with him. The boy who stared in awe was met with a gentle smile painted onto a freckled face. “Hello,” the freckled boy said, “Who might you be?”

  
  


    . . .

  
  
  


Jean was bitter. He’d just moved to a new home, being forced to leave his friends behind. It wasn’t like he couldn’t keep in touch with them, they’d only moved a couple towns over, and of course he had a cell phone and the internet- Jean was only angry on principal. He sighed as he dragged the last of the heavy boxes into his new room. The walls were painted a pale blue, left over from the previous owners. Jean wouldn’t lie, he liked the color a hell of a lot more than the boring white of his old room. He began unpacking, setting up his bed with some trouble. Jean began to put what little books he had onto the shelf inside of his closet, but found something interesting. He picked the key up, turning it over in his hand before climbing off the stool and setting it on his bed. By the time he had gotten all of the larger things set up in his room, his mother called him downstairs for dinner. As he headed downstairs, Jean felt a strong chill.

 

He ate quickly, only making conversation with his mother when she spoke first. He felt like he was being watched. Jean went back upstairs, grabbing the little brass key. He searched the house, and found a little door only big enough for a child to fit through. “Jackpot.” He slipped the key into the lock, holding his breath as he opened the little door. 

A pile of books stared back at Jean. He sighed in annoyance, pulling them out and taking them up to his room anyway. Jean didn’t bother looking at the titles, simply put them where the other books were. He went to bed early that night, not looking forward to the unpacking he’d soon have to do.

 

      . . .

 

Jean looked at the other boy for a moment before he muttered, “Jean.”

He smiled at Jean. “I like your name. My name is Marco!” 

. . .

He woke up to his mother calling that she was heading to work. He shouted goodbye to her and sat up, stretching. Jean worked at unboxing the rest of his stuff until a little past noon, when he decided on leftovers for lunch. 

As he sat at their old and worn dining table, he remembered the stack of books he’d shoved onto his shelf. Jean decided he would at least look through them before he gave up on them without even reading the spines. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, right?

Jean washed out his bowl and headed upstairs to go look at the books he’d found. There were some classics, The Great Gatsby, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, a book or two he’d never heard of before, but by far, there were the most journals. They seemed to be written by whoever owned them, and from the inside cover of one, that someone seemed to be named Marco Bodt. Jean flipped through The Great Gatsby, and found a bookmark. The weird part is that it was the little slip of paper he usually had sticking out of his books.

 

. . .

“It’s very nice to meet you.”

       . . .

  
Jean shook off the weird experiences, and left the books alone. The weird occurrences seemed to disappear. He could focus on school instead of the feeling of being watched, and the terribly cold chills. Jean felt more uncomfortable than before. That night he found himself under the covers with a book no one had read but the author. Jean discovered rather quickly that his was Marco’s diary. He felt a bit bad for snooping through his stuff, but he’d left the books behind, right?


	2. Snoop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marco says hello

He felt bad about looking through the books, but curiosity got the better of him. He opened one of the books, a pale tan leather with little indentations. Jean wouldn’t lie, the book was rather pretty. He ran his fingertips over the flowery marks in the cover before opening it. The first page was blank, but the second read, ‘Short Stories Written by Marco Bodt’. Jean smirked to himself, wondering what kind of stories this guy had written, if they were any good. 

Jean had spent a lot more time reading through the stories than he thought he would. He became engrossed in the stories, even though they only lasted a few pages at the most. There were doodles of the characters in the margins of the paper and on the pages left blank in between stories. He found that he rather like this guy’s ability to tell stories. He smiled to himself. Jean finally found something interesting about the recent move.

That night, while he got ready for bed, Jean felt something like a cold breeze on the back of his neck. He jumped, whipping around to find nothing. Jean sighed and lay down with the book he was reading earlier. He hadn’t even gotten halfway through it before he fell asleep. 

Jean woke up to sunlight in his eyes, a book under his head, and flowery indents on his cheek from the journal. He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up and yawning. That’s when he heard a soft “Hello.”

Jean jumped at the unfamiliar voice, looking up to see a freckled boy, with a big smile on his face. He let out a squeak, then immediately covered his mouth with his hands, embarrassed.   
“Who the hell are you?”

The boy simply smiled, and bowed as if he’d just finished a performance.   
“My name is Marco Bodt. I see you enjoy my writing.”

The name clicked and Jean blinked furiously.   
“Yeah. It’s uh. Interesting.”

The smile on Marco’s face got brighter.   
“How’d you get in my house?”

Marco cocked his head.   
“Your house? What do you mean your house? This is and always has been my house,” He laughed. 

Jean was even more confused than before, especially at the fact that there was a tall, handsome boy in his room saying that the house he’d just moved into was his. Marco chuckled, “I’m not exactly, alive, if you couldn’t tell.”  
Jean’s head was spinning. He wasn’t making sense of everything. He’d just woken up after all. Jean shook his head and began to get dressed, ignoring the other boy in his room for the time being.


End file.
